


Masques Removed

by fabricdragon



Series: Gregory's Division [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Family, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Mycroft Holmes, Post-Canon, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Were-Creatures, Witches, Work In Progress, World of Darkness, mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-01-26 06:02:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21369340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: Picks up after "Different Masques".Mycroft Holmes has just found out (the hard way) that supernatural beings exists.  the fact that he found out GREGORY is a werewolf, from a family of werewolves, when he defended Mycroft from a vampire?  well... its complicated (Although Gregory has lovely silvery grey fur)Also the British Government is rather annoyed that he never knew any of it and is determined to be brought up to speed as soon as possible.then there are the family issues...
Relationships: Anthea & Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Gregory's Division [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522238
Comments: 56
Kudos: 102





	1. Waking up to a different world

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vulpesmellifera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpesmellifera/gifts), [Megsnotutopia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megsnotutopia/gifts), [InnerSpectrum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/gifts), [Lavender_and_Vanilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/gifts), [ReynardinePotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReynardinePotter/gifts), [magnetic_field](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetic_field/gifts), [asixth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asixth/gifts), [FantasyTLOU](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyTLOU/gifts), [EventHorizon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/gifts), [just_a_tad_crazy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_a_tad_crazy/gifts), [EilidhOg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EilidhOg/gifts), [purplehedgehog13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplehedgehog13/gifts), [hippocrates460](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippocrates460/gifts), [bookjunkiecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/gifts), [BrynTWedge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTWedge/gifts), [DaltonG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaltonG/gifts), [IantoLives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IantoLives/gifts).

Mycroft woke up and for just a moment could convince himself that he had been dosed with something-  _ Baskerville’s new project? His brother’s? _ \- and that all of this… supernatural business... would be just a strange hallucination or dream: in the next moment he was fully awake and scolding himself for permitting sentiment to cloud his thinking.  _ Things are as they are, regardless of what I might wish or prefer to believe. Facts, not fancies… _

He had to admit it was ironic that the FACTS were the existence of werewolves and vampires, and the FANCIES were that that they did not exist, but nonetheless...

He sat up and looked down at his wrist, which was splinted, but more in the fashion of a bad strain than anything broken… the remembered sensation of his lower arm snapping made him very nauseous.

Still, he was at home and not in hospital.

His arms still ached deeply, especially his shoulder where it had been wrenched, but what bruises there were, were a whisper and faded. He was weary in a fashion he hadn't been in some time, likely from the strain of it all. 

_ And my arm is not broken- or more properly, is no longer broken. _

_ Well at least I can dress myself without help _ . 

He might have preferred otherwise- especially with company in the house- but he picked out soft casual clothing that wouldn’t put any strain on his injuries or require fine coordination, such as a tie. 

His hand brushed an object resting against his chest… the ring.

He pulled the chain from around his neck and studied the ring carefully…

_ Gregory had given this to me- a family wedding ring… the wolf head was obviously a nod to the fact of werewolves… _

_ Wait… _

_ The FAMILY was werewolves? Inherited then? That would explain the generations of service... _

He resolved to ask Gregory when he could, and with a bit of nerves slid the ring onto his finger… it was too large to replace the wedding band, so he moved it to his index finger… Mycroft chuckled at the familiar problem: he and his brother were tall men, and not frail, but they both had slim fingers- in his own case nearly delicate. Gregory had made a good guess as to his size- he’d only been off by a bit.

He went downstairs slowly and found Gregory, a pot of tea, and some simple foods.

“I, uh… didn't know your kitchen very well, but I thought toast and jam and some tea until you got down: you don't have a lot of meat in the house…” Gregory put a plate down in front of him and prepared him a cup of tea.

“Thank you. Is it… I’m extraordinarily tired… is that normal?”

“Most folks drop off to sleep after a healing potion, and sleep straight through for a good bit, so… given that you managed to walk out of the hospital and are already awake? I guess tired would be expected.” Gregory sat down with his coffee and smiled, “It’s pretty impressive, but I should be used to that from you.”

“I shall ask Anthea if she can bring some supplies, and more foodstuffs when she comes… and hopefully she can explain matters a bit more.” Mycroft nodded and sent a text.

He sat for a time enjoying the company- the tea was mediocre, but well intentioned, and he kept his mouth shut.

After he had finished a cup of tea and started on his second he cleared his throat and got on with it. “So, ah… I presume from what you have told me that lycanthropy is inherited; it is obvious you can change when it is not the full moon; and since I know you worked rather extended hours at the LAST full moon I presume you do not need to change...”

Gregory paused over his cup and then chuckled, “Completely right, as usual.”

“I would like to understand more of what …. What we are apparently in the middle of,” he grumbled, “I would like to know how I MISSED it.”

“Well as to the last? Everyone in the… ah… in my division,” he gave him a wink, “Has worked very hard to make any suggestions that we exist into superstitious idiocy, and cover up any slips…” he looked down at his coffee cup, “The few times people have- people in power anyway- have found out? It's been a disaster.”

“I’m certain you DO work very hard on it- all of you- but… I still think I should have seen it- seen something.”

“Well… it's possible you did, and got your memory fogged… or more likely you saw or heard about something that never made sense, but since vampires and werewolves and all that is simply not possible, you either put it down as ‘unknown’ or someone trying to make it LOOK like supernatural stuff.” 

Gregory brightened up, “Apparently there’s a whole group of Werewolves in America that go out and do the whole “bigfoot’ thing… its part a lark and part helping with the cover up.”

Mycroft looked at him, and thought about how enthused he had been about playing Aragorn… about his youthful escapades and his enthusiasm for sports, and he couldn't keep the smile off his face, “I assume you envy them deeply and are trying to figure out some way to export yeti into the United Kingdom?”

“That obvious?”

“To me…” Mycroft looked down at the ring on his finger, “You… are oddly impetuous sometimes.” when Gregory winced Mycroft shook his head and smiled, “It is honest, at least- something I deal with too rarely.”

"I was going to do it right this time, you know," Gregory shook his head and looked up at Mycroft and flushed just slightly, "not rush it, not jump the gun... even though I wanted to drag you off and get down on one knee and propose, I was going to try to talk to you about... about all the obligations- maybe even tell you about werewolves, if I could..."

He reached over and touched the ring on Mycroft's hand, and then laid his hand over Mycroft's entirely, "And I opened my mouth to try to talk about the fact that there was a lot you needed to know... and...."

Mycroft looked down at their hands, "...You did ask me to think about it and not answer yet."

"I hadn't meant to do that after I handed you the ring!" Gregory laughed a bit ruefully, "But I just... I wanted you to be my mate, and I wanted to have ..." he looked up with that wicked, wicked smile and a glint in his eyes, "If I couldn't have my scent all over you I at least wanted my ring on your finger."

“Well, we are apparently both equally impetuous on occasion.”

Gregory cocked his head, “what… what made you accept when you did?”

“Two things… I realized that I quite often feel like smiling around you - and I rarely feel like smiling these days- and… when the thought crossed my mind about how background checks and so on were not the kind of knowledge one needed for a relationship;i realized that I already knew you…” 

Mycroft looked around the room, “I trusted you in my home, I trusted you with my brother, I ...while I was certain there would be things to discuss, I realized that we had, in fact, known each other for a very long time...and I suppose I didn't want to let you slip away.”

“I was terrified you would bolt, actually,” Gregory admitted, “Realize I wasn't anywhere in your class and how much better you could do-”

Mycroft very firmly told him to be quiet. “Gregory, my social class, if that is what you mean, is full of people I do not wish to spend any time with at all. I have very few friends, and am in fact considered radically anti-social by most people…. But I enjoy your company…”

Gregory abruptly leaned across the counter and kissed him. It was a brief and fairly chaste kiss and Mycroft still felt his hand clasp around Gregory’s and closed his eyes…

“Have I mentioned lately that you are a posh git?”

“Not lately no.” Mycroft smiled, “Have I mentioned lately that you look quite distinguished in silver? I was quite pleased when you stopped dying it brown.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“My ex hated it.”

“Your ex was lamentably lacking in good taste.”

Gregory looked suddenly sad, “well… probably, and like you said insecure, but… she never … I never told her about… about werewolves and all: didn't think she would cope.”

“A secret of that magnitude would put a strain on any relationship I would think,” Mycroft allowed, “but… if you did not think she could cope with who you are- what you are- and something that is such an important part of your life… you already had an issue.”

“Ah… right… my family… errr… well you are right about it being inherited...and… there’s a lot of pressure to have kids.”

“Your one child was… not- oh, yes, not your biological child and thus not carrying the...family traits…”

“Remember I said my family was going to have some things to say?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, “well, among other things I assume they will be insisting on surrogacy then? Adoption certainly will not pass on the genetics.”

“yeah… I’ve been being set up constantly with…” Gregory smiled and his eyes crinkled up adorably, “people who aren’t you.”

“I… will want to discuss this at some length, but believe me I understand an obligation to pass on the family…” Mycroft felt a wave of depression and shoved it firmly aside. “Later: we have time.”

“True.” Gregory ran his thumb over Mycroft’s hand and slowly pulled their hands apart, “Alright,” he sat up and put his business face on, “What do you need to know… er… soon? Or should it wait until you can debrief to Anthea?”

“I would like the basics, if you please: there are werewolves, and as stated the myths are not accurate…”

“They kind of are?” Gregory poured himself another cup- and topped off Mycroft’s- and sat back down. “Alright… first of all there are a number of different… call them family lines of werewolves: we all have slightly different gifts and appearances- my family runs silver grey predominantly and...well the details will wait.” 

he considered, “It's EASIER to change under the full moon- for some of us it's hard NOT to, especially if… if we get upset? Or hurt? Of course some of us have better control than others anyway…”

“So rather like having a temper? Except that you, ah, change?”

Gegory nodded firmly. “Serious sports are suddenly RIGHT out for a lot of us: get hurt and shift in a crowd?” he looked oddly at Mycroft for a moment, “Just so you know, most people have a kind of psychosis about us- most normal people.”

“Psychosis?”

“They cant cope- So they don't.” he shrugged, “People will very often convince themselves it was a publicity stunt, or a dog, or just… blank out and suppress it...and a lot of the folks who go running off screaming about how they saw someone turn into a wolf either get talked out of it, or… end up in therapy and medication.” Gregory winced. “It's another reason to try not to change in front of people...it can HURT them even if I never… never attacked them.”

Mycroft nodded, “A shock to their worldview of that magnitude? It could in fact cause a number of problems up to a psychotic break, yes… I merely had a moment’s wishful thinking that I had been exposed to… well something hallucinogenic.”

“I… Sherlock saw me change once, but he was high as a kite, and I don't think he remembers.”

Mycroft nodded, “or he remembers it as a drug hallucination, or a mind palace vision…” Mycroft sighed deeply, “But he always… he tampered with his own mind… as you know.”

“Yeah... “ Gregory nodded and changed the subject back, “but you… you asked me to change… and you were comfortable with it- I never expected to find that- outside of family, anyway.”

“I was shivering in shock- I felt horribly cold and equally horribly unprotected: You were warm, and… safe.” Mycroft couldn't resist the humor at his own expense and added, “and my suit was a costume, and ruined anyway.”

Gregory laughed-  _ and how had I never noticed his nose wrinkled up just a bit when he did: it was adorable _ \- “I’ll invest in lint brushes.”

“We shall have to buy a better vacuum,” Mycroft nodded solemnly, “And I understand they make easy to clean slipcovers for the furnishings…”

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re a posh git?”

“Yes,” Mycroft chuckled.

“And that I love you?”

“Not recently enough...I… I am not a very expressive man, Gregory, but...I love you too…”

They were kissing over the kitchen counter, hands laced together and tea and coffee going cold, when Anthea arrived.


	2. Briefing level: truffle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthea debriefs Gregory and Mycroft (we recap what happened in the last story) and then begins briefing Mycroft about the supernaturals in Britain.

Anthea coughed politely and said, “I brought more food…” and very courteously did NOT mention walking in on them kissing, or Mycroft’s more casual than usual clothing. 

As she was putting groceries away she asked, “Are you awake enough to give me the debrief yet, or should i plan on returning later?”

“Sooner rather than later i would think,” Mycroft reluctantly replied, “especially since i shall have to be prepared to back the official story, whatever that is.”

“Well, nothing good ever came of trying to debrief a hungry werewolf,” Anthea flashed a smile at Gregory, “or a hungry Holmes, i dare say; a better meal first and then we can begin.”

Anthea was, sadly, insistent on finishing the debrief before contaminating his testimony with any further new information: he was quite capable of keeping such new information segregated, but… policy.

Because of that he learned absolutely NOTHING new until he had finished going over everything involving Ulysses, his health issues, and the final revelation of actual vampires at the charity masquerade.

...

Gregory would not let his dry recitation of facts pass without comment: “he was BRILLIANT! Not only did he take one of the thralls down before I even got there; he was working on buying us both survival time… and he played along well enough that I got over to him without any suspicion!”

Anthea smirked just a bit, “Of course he did; Mister Holmes may despise fieldwork but he is startlingly good at it when he has to do it.”

“Anthea,” Mycroft winced, “How many cases of imported cheese will it cost to keep that suggestion out of ANY form of report? The last thing I need is being sent back into the field!”

She cleared her throat, “Never fear, sir, you are far more valuable in your current position,” She considered, “actually… you may be more valuable now that you are cleared on some matters… in any event, let's get this finished.”

Mycroft finished the story from his point of view, including the rather headache inducing shifting of forms, and Gregory considerately transforming again to keep him warm… “I’m afraid I must have passed out because i only vaguely recall anyone arriving, or being moved… the next thing I recall was waking up in the hospital.”

“May I say, sir, that while I should not be surprised, I am impressed that you are taking this so well…” Anthea muttered down at her notes, “most people most emphatically do not.”

“I… certainly did feel the pull to deny the evidence and convince myself I had been drugged- there are a number of drugs that could explain this- but … I have never been one to deny evidence just because it is uncomfortable...” 

Mycroft shook his head. “In any event: there are vampires that have been living peaceably here for some time- I had dealt with at least the one in passing; i assume i have dealt with others. There are obviously werewolves and… witches…” he nodded at Anthea, “and they have also been living quietly and not causing any trouble… so the existence of these is not in and of itself a problem.”

After another pause Mycroft admitted, “I am merely extremely annoyed that i didn’t KNOW about them.”

Anthea smiled politely and took a break for tea, and then turned to Gregory: “Your turn.”

“Well… you already got the most of it, but… when i saw this fellow- apparently code named Ulysses - i was immediately suspicious: he was pale, underslept, had a haunted or abused look but with no evident marks visible, and… his hand was cold. I admit I wasn't thinking that any vampires that might be abusing him were actually present at the event…” he grumbled, “felt like an idiot when the vamp showed up.”

“In order please, Detective… Mister Holmes left with him?”

“Yes, but since they were staying on premises, and I falsely assumed there wouldn't- couldn't- be a problem at the event I let him go without saying anything. Mister Holmes had not yet been read in on any of the secrecy issues, and I didn't think making a fuss at the party was wise.”

He blew out air in a long sigh, “like i said, i felt like a damn fool…. Anyway, i was chatting and had just gone to get myself a glass of punch- Mister Holmes hadn't been gone that long- when a man came up and asked if i was Mister Holmes’ ‘detective friend’: I said yes, and he said i was needed...he had walked me away from the crowd before I realized what he was…”

Gregory looked guilty and unhappy and Mycroft put his hand down over his. “We were both distracted, and as you said: you had no reason to expect them there.”

Gregory just looked haunted at him, “you could have been far more badly hurt, Mycroft; all because the one person who could have known, didn't-”

Mycroft cut him off, “Tell Anthea- and myself- the facts: you can attempt to convince me of your ridiculous notion that you are at fault later.” He reached over and took his hand. “I would like to know what… what you saw- it was all rather surreal and terrifying to me at the time.”

Gregory took a deep breath and continued- but he kept hold of Mycroft’s hand. 

“I realized the man was a vampire, and… then i realized that if he was here, and Mycroft had gone off with a probable victim, that Mycroft was in severe danger. I stumbled and nearly shifted- we were still in public, more or less, and he tightened his grip. I asked him if he was taking me to Mister Holmes- if he was hurt… he said he was, and that if I behaved everything would go a lot easier on me.” Gregory was biting his lip, “I went with him quietly, since it was likely the easiest way to get to Mycroft… I was mostly praying that he was alright- that they wanted me to clean up the witnesses, or maybe as a hostage. He brought me in and…”

Gregory’s hand tightened around Mycroft’s, “my first thought was that Mycroft was badly hurt- there were two people down on the ground, and blood- blood and fear and pain and piss: I could smell it even in human form, even from the doorway. The vampire stopped with a jerk- he hadn't expected whatever had happened, and while he was trying to find out what was going on… i realized that Mycroft was being held up- he looked injured- but none of the blood was HIS… and there was a sword lying on the floor- from his umbrella. I was so relieved he was alright...well… not… not what I'd been afraid of.”

Anthea nodded, “Do your recollections line up with what Mister Holmes reported?”

“Yes,” gregory nodded firmly, “Mycroft confirmed which ones were vampires and which were thralls- he’d taken one out of action already- and he gave me the excuse to get between him and the vampires…”

Anthea checked her notes- redundant, since her memory was excellent- “you were carrying tranquilizers?”

“As it happened? Yes.” Gregory nodded, “I rarely carry a firearm- the paperwork for that is absurd- but my… ah… special duties have me used to carrying tranqs. I took both the thralls out and told them they were under arrest for breaking statutes… the junior vampire- it had become obvious he was either the senior’s child or at least subordinate- rushed me and i backhanded him: he stayed down.”

Gregory flushed a bit, “i was very very close to losing control… yes i did announce that the vampire had harmed my mate, and… no i didn't even try to arrest him- can’t manage to be sorry in the slightest.”

Mycroft found that he couldn't keep from chiming in either, “Gregory had already given them one chance to be arrested… and from what i saw the senior vampire was never going to surrender in any case.” he smiled as reassuring as he could at gregory, “I… chose not to look up- i hope you understand- but what I did see was…”

“Horrifying?” gregory’s mouth twisted unhappily.

“In the sense that watching a body being damaged is horrifying? Yes, but no… i was going to say impressive.” Mycroft gave his hand a gentle squeeze, “And i assure you that i found it rather dashing to be defended with such enthusiasm.”

Gregory perked up a bit at that, at least.

His description of the condition of Ulysses, of the thralls, and of Mycroft himself in the aftermath of the battle was a bit nausea inducing- Mycroft poured a new round of tea for everyone.

“... and then much to my shock, Mycroft not only remembered my shifting- believed it- but suggested i shift to help him stay warm until medical help arrived… it was amazing!”

Anthea chuckled over her tea and bid him to continue.

“Not really much to say after that… the special response teams showed up- i told Gilbert point blank that i was off duty as of his arrival on scene- and… that Mycroft was my mate and… that this was his introduction to… well everything- Mycroft wasn’t conscious by then, just… wouldn't exactly let go of my arm, either.” he dragged a hand through his hair and shrugged, “I went in with him and… well, i was afraid to leave for fear someone would try to ‘tidy up loose ends’ you know?”

Anthea nodded, “While it should not have been a risk; people are idiots.”

Mycroft pointed out, “One of the Prime Minister’s aides- who turned out to be a vampire- was trying to convince him to give me some kind of amnesia inducing drug- to fog my memory.” Mycroft snorted. “Once I had my wits about me again i told him to go get someone with my equivalent rank.”

Gregory grinned, “he did too! Stared him down and he slunk out like a probie officer- it was great!”

Anthea nodded and turned off the recordings, and put down her pen. “Not how i would have hoped to introduce anyone to… well the extraordinary side of things, but you seem to have handled it all extremely well, sir.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at her, “Can I get a proper briefing now, then?”

“In as much as there IS one, yes…” Anthea sighed, “Let me get out the truffles, sir.”

Mycroft sat back, “Its a truffle level briefing?”

“Would you expect anything LESS?”

“No… no i suppose not, carry on.” Mycroft saw Gregory’s confused look and chuckled, “Anthea and I have an established ‘snack level’ rating for briefings: truffle level is the highest.”

Gregory slowly smiled, “Have I mentioned you are adorable, lately?”

“Hmph…” Mycroft tried to be annoyed about being called adorable and failed miserably- he may in fact have given gregory a besotted look, judging form Anthea’s reaction. He tried to regain some semblance of dignity by explaining the snack level rating: “Truffle level is restricted to briefings with incomplete or contradictory data, unreliable information sources, and / or major political complications.”

“Ouch,” Gregory looked at Anthea and then back at Mycroft and winced, “She’s not wrong…”

Anthea nodded and made sure everyone had three utterly delicious looking confections on their plates, as well as fresh tea, and began…

“Well first of all: as you deduced werewolves are genetic. There are several family lines? Clans? Of werewolves and within each clan there are usually several political groups: DI Lestrade’s family has served in England for generations, but he has close family in France and several other countries…”

Mycroft nodded, “and his family runs to the grey or silver fur color…”

“I shall leave it to him to detail the rather byzantine family relationships and politics of werewolf society, but i feel that i must PERSONALLY inform you that Gregory is third in line for a rather important title-”

Gregory snorted, “Officially third in line… at the moment… and that can change drastically and fast: since I have no interest in challenging for leadership i will never BE in that position- my rank just means young idiots come up trying to challenge me as if it means something.”

Mycroft frowned, “young… werewolves often challenge you?”

“Not often…”

“Are they likely to cause me- or you for that matter- any difficulty over our relationship?”

“Ah…” Gregory blinked several times and then shrugged, “no clue? I did mention that my family is going to try to insist on my having kids- my genetic kids- but i never… err… I guess someone might take exception to my having a relationship with you? Assuming they even found out…”

Mycroft looked at Anthea and nodded, “I will need details on how to defend myself, and we shall have to make changes to my security…’

Anthea agreed, “we would have to in any case, sir, with you now being informed of things…”

Gregory looked miserable and guilty, “I never thought about that- that you might be in danger from my own people because of me… from being with me… damn.”

“Better to take precautions,” Mycroft took a deep breath, “You already know just how dangerous and… problematic... being involved with MY family can be: I am certain yours is much simpler to deal with.”

“When you put it that way… yeah, maybe.” Gregory muttered.

Anthea finished off her first truffle and continued, “now as to witches, and other ‘ apparent humans who practice magic’...”

“Apparent?”

“Magic capable individuals often have extreme difficulty conceiving with people who are not from similarly gifted families: current speculation is its simply a rather complex set of recessives- since talent does appear in people with no known family practice- but for some time it was believed we were a separate people entirely.”

Mycroft considered that, “For secrecy your families would have had to be rather insular…”

“Precisely so,” she nodded. “in addition the magical practices are rather dissimilar around the globe…”

“Witchcraft versus ceremonial magic? Alchemy and such like?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“At the very least,” Anthea sat back with a sigh, “In Britain there have often been rather bloody feuds between the different practitioners… the conflicts between the ceremonial practitioners and the witches were…. Well, the less said the better.”

“So WERE there magics being done to fight the Germans? I know there were a number of rather lurid legends, and some books…” Mycroft reluctantly resolved to read them if so.

“Yes, and… there were also a number of magical traditions that wanted to stay neutral, and some that sided with Germany…”

“So rather like the mundane politics.”

“With rather more assassinations and direct attacks between houses, yes sir.”

Mycroft thought back over what he knew- and she likely did not- about politics during that war and sighed, “so, exactly like mundane politics.”

Her eyes widened- as did Gregory’s- and she stuttered, “ah… perhaps i need to learn more mundane history…”

Mycroft ate a truffle and nodded.


	3. So, We Have vampires?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The briefing gets to the existance of vampires...  
and wanders off into the concepts of soul mates, and fairy tales...   
and even Mycroft Holmes sometimes needs a bit of comforting.

“Much as I wish the subject would go away,” Mycroft stared down at the last truffle on his plate, “I had an unpleasantly close look at the fact that we have vampires…”

Gregory sighed and dragged his hand through his hair again: Mycroft tossed all prudence and propriety to the wind and reached out to smooth it back. “Your hair is quite soft- in both forms.”

Gregory’s face revealed just how infrequently he received such compliments and Mycroft revised his opinion of Gregory’s ex-wife down several steps.

Anthea smiled at them both smugly- her eyes crinkled up and the word ‘adorable’ all but floated over her head, the horrid woman- and sipped her tea before continuing with, “Yes, we have vampires. The ones who are part of the statutes and agreements in Britain are assisting in keeping the secrets, and we,” she gestured to Gregory and herself, “and our people are working together, OR they at least keep out of trouble.”

Gregory muttered, “mostly keep out of trouble.”

Anthea cleared her throat, “vampires and werewolves do not generally get along.”

Mycroft nodded, “I rather got that impression.” he glanced at Gregory, “You… smell off to them? And I believe you said your blood is not good for them.”

“Our blood is actively toxic when we are shifted,” Gregory corrected, “and unpalatable… with complications… in human form.”

“Complications?” Mycroft waited patiently, but Gregory was shifting uncomfortably and Anthea answered instead.

“While most vampires have something of an allergic type reaction to werewolf blood- agitation, anger, a general feeling of discomfort and irritation- a handful react as though they have just had a hit of cocaine: all the upset and agitation as mentioned, but along with a rush and increased power- speed at least.” she frowned, “It’s still very BAD for them, but a few vampires have become addicted, and attacked human werewolves or their close kin preferentially…”

Gregory took a deep breath, “there have been a handful of… call it codependent relationships between werewolves and vampires: the werewolf becoming addicted to the bite, or the blood, and the vampire becoming addicted to the rush… the worst cases we have ever had to cover up have been those. The second most public being when its not voluntary on one side, and the other one is being abusive: those are technically worse in the sense that you have a victim, not two abusers, but they tend to be less public at least…”

Mycroft tried to think about the vampires being faster and shuddered, “those two were quite fast enough, thank you.”

Gregory sighed, “well, yes… after dark they generally are.”

Anthea bit decisively into a truffle, “the full briefing will take too much time; the very basics? Vampires are in fact contagious- that is you start out as a human and are transformed. The parent, sire, elder, or however you choose to call them has a GREAT deal of control over the newly transformed vampire and as such they are considered to have minimal culpability in cases-”

“Such as mine, yes,” Mycroft nodded, “The one who went to fetch Gregory was not considered… ah… fully responsible. I DO still want to be involved in interviewing him.”

Anthea nodded, “here is where things get extremely prickly, sir: vampires are extremely secretive about the process of creating other vampires. There is a great deal of speculation, contradictory information, and so on… we believe that it cannot happen accidentally, and it is certain that the established vampiric community keeps tight control of their, ah, reproduction… but the details? I will get you a report with our ‘best guesses’ but that's all we have.”

Mycroft sighed and rubbed his forehead, “lovely,” he muttered, “And the bite is addictive and from what Gregory said the blood is even more so?”

Anthea looked thoughtful, “partially correct.”

Gregory looked over with a frown, “partially?”

“Vampires have OPTIONS when they feed: the most common and apparently simplest method is the one that is quite addictive- it is immensely pleasurable.” she smiled in an apologetic fashion at Gregory, “They CAN feed without that intense rush- which is why some people do not have any idea that they were fed from, but of course that isn't likely to need your involvement.”

“Oh…” Gregory glanced back at Mycroft, “I suppose they must be able to at that: most of the problem cases I deal with are addicts…”

“Like poor Ulysses.”

Anthea nodded and busied herself with tea for a moment, “Yes, sir: I would expect he had been deliberately… abused and rewarded… and may have even been fed a small quantity of blood…”

“Which is capable of healing but even more addictive,” Mycroft frowned, “Ah, the thralls? Their extreme strength and obedience? The junior vampire was speaking of keeping Gregory as a thrall…”

Gregory growled- it should have been terrifying given what he now knew about him, but as it was Mycroft found it endearing. 

“Thralls… are addicts, yes,” Anthea nodded, “To be specific, when we speak about a thrall we mean someone who is both an addict, and has enough vampire blood in their system to… well generate the extra strength and so on. Vampire blood can be used to heal, but since some people have a propensity for addiction, it is inadvisable to even expose someone ONCE.”

Gregory- who was clearly very unhappy with the entire topic- added, “Very few thralls can ever kick the habit: they usually have to be given to another vampire… they're still a slave but to a hopefully better master.”

Mycroft considered what Gregory had said and then looked at Anthea, “Which is why Ulysses had to be killed?”

She winced, “His case was… well there were several reasons: he was addicted to the blood and the bite, even if he was not a thrall-he didn't have the extra strength or benefits- and he had been… deliberately broken down. If… if it had JUST been the addiction, he might have been able to continue to work in some capacity under one of the local vampires...”

Mycroft slotted this new data in place and shuddered as he followed the various possibilities to their natural conclusion. His deduction abilities spinning out one horror after another of what had been done to the man, what was likely to have happened to him... 

“Mycroft? Mycroft, Love, are you alright?” Gregory's voice brought him out of the rather terrifying exploration of possibilities.

“I… I believe we are done with the briefing for right now.” Mycroft cursed the fact that his voice shook slightly.

The next thing he knew Gregory’s arms were around him. Mycroft realized he’d been shaking, but now he felt quite calmer…  _ warm? Soft? _ Mycroft glanced down at what appeared to be a silvery grey fur throw…

“You’re really quite comfortable in this form, you know.” Mycroft resigned himself to being fur covered, thanked everything he was in casuals, and laid back into Gregory’s rather more sizeable chest.

“Most people don’t think so- outside of family,” Gregory’s voice was deeper, and distorted as it had been before by the inhuman jaw.

Anthea cleared her throat, “I begin to wonder if you might have some of the genetics? Truthfully very few mundanes find werewolves anything but terrifying.”

“I have no idea if i find WEREWOLVES terrifying,” Mycroft noted as he did his best to burrow further into the warm rumbling comfort, “but I don't find GREGORY at all terrifying: he’s warm and comfortable and soft and…. Safe feeling.” He frowned slightly, “Although… it is a bit odd… that i feel quite SO comfortable? I am normally… not comfortable with public displays…”

Gregory startled- he could feel it in the shift of his body and the minute tightening of his arms- “Uh… I may need to talk to some of my elders about this: there’s a lot of… there’s a lot of fairy tale type lore among our people about… about fated matches, soulmates, or ‘true mates’ and… well i always thought it was just….”

“Pleasant nonsense?” Mycroft nodded, “Most fables and myths are either veiled lessons and warnings, or intended to be a type of comfort story.”

Anthea was busying herself with the dishes in an attempt to give him the illusion of privacy. “Well you are likely still recovering from everything, sir,” she generously gave him an excuse for his clinging and… demonstrative behavior. 

“As to this werewolf lore?” Anthea looked thoughtful for a moment and continued a bit more slowly, “A great deal of knowledge is passed down among the non-mundane families in… fairy tales, or similar: it was less problematic if outsiders got hold of a children's fable than if they heard plain teachings being passed down… and while Gregory’s family has had at least one werewolf in every generation, other families are not so fortunate and it can be… quite a bit between…”

Mycroft shrugged, enjoying the novel feeling of a firm chest covered in soft fur behind him, “the Holmes family is certainly not ‘normal’ for any meaning of the word- it is quite probable we have a werewolf or wizard in the ancestry.” he managed to lift his head enough to look at Anthea properly, “Also i doubt most people’s first exposure to a shifted werewolf is a fiance saving them from vampires.”

“There is that,” Anthea agreed.

Gregory rumbled something about rest… and Mycroft started thinking very pleasant thoughts about curling up in bed with…  _ oh dear _ .

“Anthea, please start ordering easy to clean slipcovers, extra lint removers and so on? I find Gregory’s fur quite lovely… but… “ he winced.

Gregory rumbled behind him, “-concerned about shedding… never noticed, but…”

Anthea was looking between them- her eyes traveling up to Gregory’s head and down to Mycroft’s- and then she smiled slightly, “In shifted form werewolves do not shed as much as you might expect, although if they transition to full wolf form they most certainly do- its like owning a husky. I shall order you one of the better vacuums on the market for fur, some suitable slipcovers and better lint rollers, sir… however in his current form he will shed minimally.”

“Oh GOOD,” Mycroft very nearly sighed in relief.

Gregory effortlessly picked him up, “Stress,” he said firmly.

Mycroft considered how little he spoke when he shifted, and began to suspect that it was in fact difficult to speak English with the changed jaw and throat structure. 

Anthea nodded, “and the healing potion,” she gathered up her things, “Sir? You had best plan on spending the rest of the day resting… I shall deputize Greg to ensure that you rest, and eat sufficiently.”

Mycroft tried to protest but Gregory made an agreeing noise and carried him off the bedroom.

“... since my sheets are quite washable, the bed is oversized, and you are delightfully warm… could i… ah… w-would it be much of an imposition to have you…” Mycroft cursed the stutter and insecurity.

Gregory put him down, and as Mycroft looked up he got a rather good look at those jaws- right before they shifted back into the familiar. “Would you think it too forward if i lay down with you in human form?” Gregory smiled endearingly and then held up a hand and flexed his fingers, “My claws are horrible on bedding.”

“Oh! Oh yes they would be…” Mycroft swallowed, suddenly dealing with an incredibly attractive Gregory Lestrade in his bedroom and not certain if he was in any state to deal with that level of intimacy yet, but…

He wasn't at all certain he could bear to be alone, at night, in the dark, just yet- having just found out that the imaginary monsters in the dark were… not so imaginary.

“Frankly… i… feel that company would be…” Mycroft stuttered and inwardly cursed his hesitance: he hadn't felt in such need of reassurance since he was a child and it was hardly the impression he wanted Gregory to have of him.

Gregory didn't seem put off by it; merely slipped off the remains of his clothing and slid carefully into bed next to Mycroft. “Here,” he said gently and… placed his arms…

Mycroft called himself nine kinds of a weak fool, but he felt immeasurably better once Gregory wrapped his arms around him. He took a deep breath and moved further up against Gregory’s chest- broad even in human form, if less fluffy.

“I am not normally so… clingy.” Mycroft muttered into the man’s neck.

“I don’t mind,” Gregory smiled against his hair and kissed his temple gently. “Much as I admire your ability to handle everything and take charge- and terrify vampiric MPs- its… nice to feel needed.” he pulled Mycroft more firmly against him, “I don’t expect you to let me take care of you that often, Mycroft, but… I like to take care of people sometimes, and you’re my MATE. They threatened you, and… it's nice to have you right here with me where i know you’re safe.” after a pause, “and it's wonderful that you know what I am and are still comfortable with me.”

“As I said,” Mycroft said quietly against him, “I doubt most people’s introduction to werewolves is being rescued by… by someone they trust.”

Mycroft’s eyes kept closing and the feel of Gregory’s breath against him and his arms around him were incredibly comfortable- and comforting. “You… feel safe.” he mumbled, “Probably quite silly and emotional of me, but I shall blame it on healing potions and deny it later.”

Mycroft drifted off to sleep pillowed on Gregory’s shoulder and wrapped firmly in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is gifted to everyone who commented on the original story before i started this one...  
and of course primarily to VulpesMellifera who started the "Mystrade Halloween Advent Calendar"
> 
> (and yes, since i have played "World of darkness" i have used some of the concepts, although not the world setting)


End file.
